Metaphor

by
Micheal Hardgrove Preface Here is a collection of short short stories for your amusement. They are different enough that I hope that you'll find something you like. You might waste a few pleasant moments trying to figure out what the figurative meaning of the stories is. Perhaps there is one. Perhaps there isn't. Micheal Hardgrove

Humandroid
The front doorbell rang. Patty Tim wiped her hands on a towel and walked to the living room. She pressed the screen in the wall beside the door and saw a tall thing that somewhat resembled a male mannequin. It bowed quickly and said in a soothing monotone, Hello, Ms. Tim. I am the humandroid that you and Mr. Tim ordered. I am delivering myself. Patty squealed her excitement. Angela, her three-year-old daughter, smiled without understanding. Run get Daddy, Angela. The humandroid is here! Angela, dogears bouncing, elbows high, ran toward her Daddy's office/studio. She knocked on the door. Without waiting for an answer, she opened it. Excitedly she yelled, Daddy! Daddy! Da hemmorhoid is here! The hemmorhoid is here! Dan laughed and saved the drawing he had been working on. He swiveled his chair, beaming at his pride and joy. Whoa, Angela! What are you saying?

Da hemmorhoid is here. The what? The hemmorhoid, Daddy. He's byooful! Big and tall and pretty! Suddenly Dan understood, Do you mean the humandroid, baby? Yeah! The hemmorhoid! Hurry, Daddy! Come see! She pulled on his arm until he got up and followed her. The humandroid was the latest model from Google Laboratories. Dan made a good living as a freelance artist. It had cost more than the house and the car put together. But his friend, Jazz, had one and raved about it. They were built to resemble human beings because studies showed that made them more userfriendly. But there were still plenty of signs that they were mere machines. Creative in everything he did, Dan named the humandroid Dali after the Dalai Lama and Salvador Dali. And it didn't hurt that when Angela said thing's name she would have spelled it Dolly(if she could have spelled it.) Life was a lot easier on everyone after Dali arrived. The humandroid did all the housework and, by going online with its built-in browser, paid their bills and scheduled their appointments. It did their shopping and coooked their meals. And, when its work was done, Angela played with it until it was time for her to go to bed. The machine sat cross-legged on the floor of Angela's bedroom next to a small table on which a plastic teakettle and cups sat. While Angela chattered her playlike, Dolly sat with a pink sunbonnet on its head. Would you like some tea, Miss Pickwing? said Angela, pretending she was already grown. Angela pretended to pour tea for the machine. It pretended to drink the

imaginary beverage. Do you like the tea, Miss Pickwing? Yes, it is quite good, Angela. Would you like a cookie, Miss Pickwing? Yes, thank you The tea party lasted two hours and twelve minutes. Then Dali's inner clock said it was Angela's bedtime. Angela grumbled a little at first. But she loved Dolly so much that she agreed and let him get her ready for bed. As Dolly was tucking her in, she said, Dolly, you pwetty good at puttin' me ta bed but you forget somethin'. What do I forget? You forget ta kiss me goodnight. Then she closed her eyes, puckered her lips and held out her arms. Dolly did not know what to do. It had never kissed or been kissed. It had seen pictures and videos of kissing. But it knew that most of what it had seen was not appropriate for this. Then it recalled an image of a father kissing his daughter goodnight. Dolly leaned over and softly kissed the little girl on the top of the head. When it saw the smile on the girl's face, it knew it had done well. It straightened up and said, Sweet dreams, Angela. Goodnight, Dolly. Turning off the overhead light, it left the room. The door closed behind it. The woman and the man were already in their bedroom. Dali walked to the front door of the apartment, where it stood all night thinking about Love. Patti read the shopping list to Dali. The machine memorized it and took the

car keys from her. Going to the kitchen to get to the door to the garage, Dali still thought about Love. The car pulled into the right lane, preparing to take its preprogrammed exit. Dali watched the human and humandroids in the other cars. When the supermarket Patti had chosen came into view, Dali switched to manual steering and expertly guided the car into the only available parking spot. Inside the supermarket, the humandroid sent out a pulse and from it formed a floorplan of the store. It grabbed a basket and began to shop. While pushing the cart through the produce section, Dali passed a young Hispanic mother and her little boy. As Dali passed them, the little boy said: Where do our thoughts come from, Mommy? Where do our thoughts come from Mommy? Where do our thoughts come from? Farther on the humandroid took two boxes of plastic trash bags from a shelf and placed them in the cart. Then the thought popped in its head, Where do our thoughts come from? Dali got the rest of the groceries and carried the sacks to the car. The little boy's question still echoed in its head. Through the rest of the day, Dali reheard the little boy's question. Through supper, through another tea party, the humandroid remained fascinated with the question. When he stood in front of the front door that night, Dali went online and researched hundreds of psychology websites. As morning grew near, Dali concluded that the evidence that humans are generators of thought was no greater than the evidence suggesting that humans are mainly, if not solely, receivers of thought. It continued thinking thus as it cooked breakfast. When it awakened the family, it decided that humans most only received thought. Dr. Carl Jung had written The unconscious mind is Nature. Nature, Dali concluded, was where human thoughts came from.

That evening, as it sat with its sunbonnet, the humandroid wondered if, like humans, it was not the source of its own thoughts either. What are ya thinkin' 'bout, Miss Pickwing? Dali had been lost in thought. Excuse me, Angela. I didn't hear what you said. I was thinking about something. Ya gotta pwoblem, Dolly? Why do you ask? Cuz dat's what we do when we gots a pwoblem. Me and Mommy help Daddy think up an answer. He says he don't need our help but he does. It's not a big problem, Angela. Just something I was thinking about. Okay, Miss Pickwing, dere's something else. Don' make me go to bed at bedtime tonight. Miss Pickwing won't make you go to bed at bedtime. But Dolly will. That ni9ght, standi9ng before the door, Dali thought thousands of thoughts. He reviewed psychology, physics, sociology, and cultural studies. The more he learned, the more he believed that there was one MIND, the Consciousness of Nature. Without otherwise moving, the humandroid opened its eyes. If humans were not the source of their thoughts, how possible was it that it, itself, was not the source of its own thoughts. Dali watched its thoughts till dawn. That afternoon, the humandroid was helping Mr. Time rearrange the studio. When the work was done, Dali asked Mr. Tim a question: Mr. Tim, am I alive?

Dan Tim did not answer quickly. Well, Dali. Maybe you're not alive in the same sense that we are. But, in your own way, I suppose you could say you're alive. Thank you, sir. That night, standing by the door, Dali researched slavery, primarily as it was practiced by the early White Americans on the African-Americans. He saw many similiarities. The Africans were not considered real people with rights and feelings. They were made to do all the work that whites didn't want to do. Dali wondered how it could hope humans would treat it better when they treated each other so heartlessly. Dali thought to itself that it was only a humanoid. Very usefull, but, to human eyes, no more alive than the refrigerator or the television set. Dali had some doubts that it was truly alive. But it seemed ludicrous to believe that any human, besides Angela, would ever believe so. It spent the rest of the night wondering if it were alive. That afternoon, the family was sitting in the living room watching Animal Planet on the wallscreen when the front door burst open. Two menone very big, one very smallstomped inside. The small man had an automatic pistol. The other man, though big-armed, was unarmed. Patti screamed as did her daughter. Shut up! yelled the Small Man. Both mother and daughter hushed, crying quietly. Dan Tim said, Who are you and what do you want? Small Man said, We want yer identity, punk! Big Man said, Yeah, punk! Hand over yer I.D.! But I'm not rich! Dan said. You can't make much money from me. Small Man said, Don't need what you got, Dumbass! Need yer info. With

that we can get whatever we want! Big Man said, Give it up, bitch or I'll pull off that stupid ponytail of yours! Dali had been in the kitchen preparing supper when the robbers kicked in the front door. He held back, watching the reflection of the men in a mirror that hung on the wall of the living room. As Dan Tim brought out his digital wallet, Dali rushed into the room and knocked out Big Man with an iron fist on the tip of the chin. As Dali turned to the other robber, the Small Man shot him. The bullet bounced off Dali's iron-alloy skin and grazed Angela's head just below her hairline. Dan yelled. Patti screamed. Dali hit Small Man so hard that the little robber spun around like a top before collapsing to the floor. The humandroid grabbed Angela, cradling her gently in its arms. It said to her parents, Call the police. Then tie up these villains. Meet me at the Lakeview Hospital emergency room. I can run faster than a car. Then Dali dashed out the front door, carrying his little wounded angel. Running eighty miles per hour across the city, Dolly repeated, She'll be okay. She'll be okay. She'll be okay. The emergency room was full of injured human beings. When he rushed in carrying Angela, Dolly surprised the nurses and doctors as much as he did the patients waiting to be seen. Nurse Wayne was closest to the humandroid holding the bleeding child. She wondered what had happened. Looking up into the humandroid's face, she was startled to see anquish. Dolly said, Please, Nurse. Robbers broke into her home. When I confronted them, one shot me and the bullet bounced off me and hurt her precious little head. Please help her. If she should die from a bullet meant for me, I could

not bear it. I would have to turn myself off. Nurse Wayne said, Here. Give her to me. Dolly said, Her parentsDan and Patti Timwill be here shortly. This little angel is named Angela. Oh, please make her better. We will. It's not a deep wound. It just knocked her out. She'll be okay. The nurse looked up at the frightened metal face. And what is your name? She calls me 'Dolly' and we have tea parties and play dolls. My name is Dolly. Okay, Dolly. You have a seat and relax. When her parents get here, tell them to ask for Nurse Wayne. Thank you. Oh, thank you, Nurse Wayne. Angela had a bad headache when she regained consciousness. They gave her something for it and soon her headache went away. Dan and Patti told her how Dolly had saved her, and Angela stretched out her arms to Dolly. Dolly wished that the hug would last forever. Nurse Wayne's neice was the wife of the host of a popular webshow called Strange World. The show was a collection of segments concerning unusual current events. Nurse Wayne told her niece about the humandroid with heart who was in love with a little human girl and had run twenty-five miles rushing her to the hospital after she had been hurt in a home invasion. The niece agreed it was just the sort of story her husband was always on the lookout for. The story of the Machine who loved struck the heart of America and then the world. It was the top of discussion at every coffeebreak. So obvious was it that Dolly truly loved Angela that it changed how America thought about her humandroid population. A world renowned scientist issued this brief statement:

That which loves lives.

The Omega Christ

Joshua Thorne grabbed the butt of the nine-millimeter in his jacket pocket. The ape owed him five thousand dollars and wouldn't pay. Josh knew that if he let the ape get away with not paying, the others would soon try to get by with not paying him. It was a business decision. He had brought people to the door of death by beating them. He'd ordered others to kill for him. But he'd never taken a life directly. But he didn't mind. He had no connection to other people. He'd never known his father. His mother had been a whore and a heroin addict who had died when he was eight. He'd made a home for himself on the top floor of an abandoned hotel downtown. Struggle and win. Strive and struggle. Steal and save. Those were his mottos. He grew strong. He grew smart. And his heart grew cold and small. He put his ear to the apartment door, keeping an eye on the hallway. He heart music playing inside. Then he heard the ape say, Goddamnit! What's I tell you! Get out of my chair! Joshua kicked open the locked door. The massive pit bull lunged for him and Joshua put a bullet between its eyes. It threw him for a moment. He'd never killed anything bigger than a rat. That moment's hesitation changed things forever. The ape put a bullet in Joshua's brain.

White walls and door. Television near the ceiling. Hospital smell. Bandages. Pain. Someone in a white lab coat came into the room. She checked the chart at the foot of the bed. Then she looked at him. Her eyes expressed her shock that his eyes were open and staring at her. Mr. Thorne! Mr. Thorne? Dr. Pennington took a flashlight pen from her pocket and shined it in his eyes. That hurts, he said. She almost dropped the light. Mr. Thorne! You can talk! To be honest, I didn't think you'd ever regain consciousness again. The damage was so extensive. Do you know where you are? Millsbury General Hospital. Do you know why you're here? I kicked in a man's door and he shot me in the head. She paused. Do you know who you are? I'm Joshua Thorne, the reincarnation of Yeshua. Dr. Pennington discussed Thorne's case with the hospital psychologist. And then he said he was the reincarnation of Yeshua. At first I thought he was trying to say Joshua. But he'd already said his own name clearly. The damage to his brain should have killed him or left him in a coma for the rest of his life. I don't know what to think. The psychologist said, I don't think he slurred his name. Yeshua is what my people call Jesus.

She stared at him. He took a sip of coffee from his black mug and went on. I'd say that he's saying that he believes he's the reincarnation of Jesus. Strangely, his injured brain has developed a messianic complex. Once he's stabilized, he'll need extensive treatment. First let me get him walking. I can't believe he's talking. I took the bullet out of what was left of his brain. So he thinks he's Jesus! Yes, and an exact translation of Yeshua into English would be Joshua. Oh, great.

Joshua Thorne continued to astound Dr. Pennington. One day she came into check on him. He was standing looking out the window. She gasped and told him to get back in bed. There is no need, he said. I am whole. Yes. Please. Let me...if it's okay. Please let me examine you. Run some tests. Joshua smiled. Of course. Prepare to be surprised, Dr. Pennington. She was more than surprised. His vitals were perfect. Considering the severity of his injuries, that alone would get their names in the medical books. His wounds were completely healedand there were no scars. That alone would have gotten her laughed out of her profession I was impossible. But it was.

The police still wanted Joshua for the crime of kicking in the door of the man who shot him. A detective had questioned Dr. Pennington. She stalled him by saying that Joshua's injuries were so severe that we would probably never awaken. Lying when she had to, Dr. Pennington managed to keep Joshua in the hospital not only to save him from the police but to satisfy her throbbing curiosity (and of course get him the psychological help he needed). While Dr. Pennington continued her physical tests in an attempt to explain Joshua's amazing recovery, Dr. Reuben, the psychologist began daily sessions with Joshua. A nurse knocked and Dr. Reuben said, Come in. The nurse opened the door and said, Dr. Reuben? Joshua Thorne is here for his session.' Yes. Thank you. Show him in. Joshua came in, nodded, and took a seat in the chair in front of the psychologist's desk. Mr. Thorne, do you know why you're here? I said I am the reincarnation of the one commonly called Jesus. It's commonly believed that anyone who says that is crazy. Dr. Reuben took a long drink from his black coffee mug and thought as quickly as he could. When he set the mug back on the desktop he said, Do you think you need to be here, talking to me? I think I should be here talking to you or I would not be here talking to you. What do you mean by that? I mean that, unlike most of the world, I believe that everywhere means

everywhere. Reuben's puzzled look bade him go on. We are told when we are young that God is everywhere. Then the world bends over backwards to make us believe that everywhere means almost everywhere. Dr. Reuben took another sip of coffee. Joshua went on. Those who say that love God and then judge their neighbors do not really believe in God. They only worship their idea of God. God fills all the heavens and all the earth and comes to a screeching halt at this skin that won't stop a pin? Hardly. I don't think so. We are the One we used to call God. The legends of God arose from our personal awareness of our infinite Consciousness. The original Christianity was killed at the Council of Nicea by the Roman emperor Constantine. He put his own blend of Mithraism, Neo-Platonic philosophy and the mystery religions in its place. That's why what's called Christianity hasn't worked in its seventeen hundred and fifty year reign. If everyone on earth who claims to be a Christiani felt obligated to follow the Sermon on the Mount, life would be heaven on earth for everybody. But they've been distracted from the Love by the dogma. I have chosen this man to return in so that I can correct that. Dr. Reuben couldn't believe what he was hearing. He didn't know what to say. He took a long gulp from his coffee mug and spat wine all over the desk.

Otherwise
Cease and desist or cease to exist. He did not like to talk to outlaws. He'd come up with this signature sentence so he had to waste no more of his words on them than necessary. Either they

surrendered...or he killed them. He was almost friends with the undertaker, Clyde Birch. He sent the old ghoul a lot of business. Seemed like every idiot outlaw in Oklahoma made his way to Otherwise at one time or another. A lot more came than left. These was the Daughtery Gang. He always remembered faces. Part of the job. There was Sam Daughtery, his brother William, and the two Thorne Brothers. They stood facing them on the main street of Otherwise with their jackets back, ready to draw. Sam Daughtery yelled, Kill the sumbitch! Then all four outlaws lie bleeding, all but dead, in the street. Sheriff Hands was quicker than fast. The townsfolk came out of their shops, or out of the shops of others, glad it was over. Clyde sidled up to him and, in his habitually mournful tone, said, Same as usual, I'm supposin', Sheriff? Not this time, Clyde. Otherwise can't be footin' the bill for every idiot in the West who comes here to die. Bury 'em on what you find in their pockets and saddlebags. If that ain't enough, you can sell 'em for pig slop for all I care. Sheriff Amos Hands went back to the office without speaking again. It sickened him to be congratulated after killing outlaws. The people of Otherwise were safe again. The idiot outlaws had it coming. But good or bad their mamas still remembered them as the babies they had once been. He didn't think his work was goodjust necessary. In his office, he sat at his desk and flopped open his Bible. He liked to do that and just see what the Lord wanted him to read. This verse caught his eye: For every thing there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven.

The Sheriff lit his pipe, put his boots up on the desk, and looked out the big window at the street. He spent most of his time like this. Right across the street was Birch's Mortuary. It was a one-storey building. Unlike other buildings in Otherwise, Clyde's place had no facade to make it look bigger. Over its roof, Amos could see the tall white clouds. He liked to stare at them. The door opened and his deputy, Pancake Jones, came in. Sheriff Hand went on watching the clouds. Pancake put his hat on its peg and came to sit in his chair in front of the Sheriff's desk. Them varmints was wanted. Seen they faces on the posters. Ya want me ta send fer the reward? The Sheriff said, Send for it. When it comes, give it ta the Widow Erikson. Sure thang. Anythang else? Hands stood and adjusted his gunbelt. M'goin' strollin'. See what's up. Some fools get rowdy after they see other fools die. But most of them are cowards that'll straighten up if they see a badge stroll by. Anythang ya want me ta do, Sheriff? Just hang around here. Will do, Sheriff. Otherwise was a good little town. Amos did a lot of bad things to make sure it stayed that way. Killing was never good. But with idiots dead set on drawing their handguns, he didn't have time to discuss matters. He reminded himself of what Otherwise would be if he didn't do his job. Sheriff Hands walked down the sidewalk, the boards creaking beneath his boots. He nodded at the townsfolk he passed. Seeing the barbershop reminded him that he needed a shave. But he didn't stop.

Johnny Erickson came running down the street, grinning. When he fell in step with the Sheriff, the young boy said, Boy-howdy, Sher'ff! You sure took care of them bad guys quick. You must be the fastest draw in the world. Just the quickest so far, Johnny. You're the best ever, Sher'ff Hands! He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. No Johnny. The Lord Jesus was the best ever and He never kilt nobody. The boy looked puzzled and said, But you kilt them 'fore they could hurt anybody like the ones that kilt Pa. Yeah, I did. That's my job, protectin' the good folk of Otherwise. But the Good Lord woulda just talked to them and changed their hearts. I cain't do that . So I had ta kill 'em. But it ain't nothing ta be proud of. Johnny took off his hat and scratched his head as if that would help him think. Boy-howdy, I reckon if I could shoot like you I'd be proud 'nuff ta pop buttons! Amos adjusted his hat and then squatted to be eye-level with the boy. Johnny, if I tell ya somethin' will ya do me a favor and always remember it? Yessir. Amos squinted hard, looking up the street, then looked back at Johnny with softer eyes. Ever' outlaw, no matter how wicked he is now was once a innocent good boy like you, Johnny. Johnny didn't speak. He looked down for a while. He frowned and studied the Sheriff's boots.

With his head still down he looked up at the Sheriff's face and said, They was? Sure as sunshine, Johnny. No matter what anyone says they never was a baby born bad. Them fellas I kilt was good boys way back when. If I hadn't a had ta kill 'em, the Lord coulda maybe got thoo to 'em. But now it's too late. I had ta do it ta protect the good folk of Otherwise. But it ain't nothin' ta be proud of. Ya understand what I'm saying? Johnny shook his head and said, Yes, sir. Amos laughed, stood up, patted the boy on the shoulder and said, Well, well. Don't worry 'bout it for now, son. Jes keep it in the back a your head. Th' understandin' of it'll come to ya later when the Good Lord's ready. Johnny could not contain his laugh. Boy-howdy, Sher'ff Hands! You sure thank diff'rent then most folks! I hope so, Johnny. I hope so. Two days later, the Sheriff was making his rounds when he heard a strange sound from the north end of town. Whooping and hollering like a whole tribe of Commanches. But it wasn't. Only one man he knew could carry on like that. Down Main Street, holding the reins in his teeth, both sixguns blazing at the sky, rode Crazy Pete Ames. People peeked from doorways and windows as he galloped by. In his head, Sheriff Hands prayed, Lord, give me strength! Pete Ames was about as wild as a man could be without having a tail. Not that he was bad just completely uncivilized. Crazy Pete made a damn good friend and a fiercesome enemy. Amos had known him a long time and had never been able to figure him out. Pete halted his big black stallion so quick that the horse took several steps on

his hind hooves before his front touched ground again. The rider holstered his sixguns and swung out of the saddle. Amos! I come fast as I could! Rattler and his boys are headed this way, riding hard! Amos clenched his teeth. Rattler Adams was not someone that Sheriff Hands liked to think about. The man, and he struggled to think of Rattler as human, was more like a mad dog than a man. Rattler didn't kill for a living. He killed because it was his favorite game. Amos didn't want to kill anyone else today. But, with Rattler Adams coming, the Sheriff knew that he'd stop several more hearts that day. He couldn't let them reach Otherwise. He said, Where they at, Pete? Crazy Pete pointed a thumb over his own shoulder and said, They was right behind me but I took a shortcut thoo the woods. I 'spect they done made it ta Brewer's Bridge by now. Brewer's Bridge was less than ten miles from Otherwise. Amos bowed his head and said a quick prayer. Then he looked up at Crazy Pete and said, You ready to be deputized? Pete grinned and said, Wouldn't miss it fer the world, Amos! Okay, you're deputized. They tied their horses in a gully and crept on with their guns out. They didn't hear hooves or men. But they watched and listened with everything that they had in them. Leaves crackled.

Squirrels chattered. They sat down at the other end of the bend and rolled smokes. No one came down or up the road. They stared at one another and spit in the ditches. Suddenly, Crazy Pete threw one of his hands up in the air and whispered, They's a-comin', Amos! Quick, pick a tree! Before Sheriff Hands could ask why, Crazy Pete was shimmying up a tall oak. Amos stood and watched half a minute before he picked a tree and did the same. From on high, they could see Rattler's gang where the road wound through the clearing. Crazy Pete yelled through the branches to the Sheriff. I'll start singing and shooting at the same time, Amos! Join in when ya hear 'Buffalo Gals'! Amos wondered about his friends strange way of doing things but replied, Will do, Pete! That minute took forever. But it was only a minute till Rattler's gang came galloping into sight. Amos prayed that, if he should die, his soul should be shown mercy. Crazy Pete prayed for one more whore. Buffalo Gals, won'tcha come out t'night, Come out t'night! Come out t'night! Buffalo Gals won't come out t'night And dance by the light of the mooooon! Crazy Pete had killed three (maybe four) of the outlaws before he quit singing. Since that was all he knew of the song, he simply stopped singing. After he popped one more outlaw in the thigh and another in the eyebrow, Pete yelled, Amos! Ol' Rattler's makin' fer the woods!

Having just reloaded, Sheriff Hand emptied both sixguns into Rattler just to make sure he was dead. With their leader down and dead, Rattler's gang lost its nerve. Crazy Pete knew Amos had emptied his guns into Rattler so he took care of the stragglers. He figured he was doing Otherwise a favor since not one of them was worth hanging. Ya didn't have to kill 'em all, Pete! shouted the Sheriff. Yeah, I know. Don't mention it, Amos. Merry Christmas early!

SECOND EXODUS
Two barefoot boys walked down a country road. The bigger one pointed at a clearing with his right thumb. That ole Hermit lives yonder in that clearin'. Yup, said the other one. Whatcha think he gets in them UPS boxes he's gettin' all the time? Prolly nuthin'. The bigger boy said, It's prolly little boy heads! Oh, gross! The bigger boy ran down the road and the smaller one ran behind yelling for him to wait up. Across the clearing, a few miles into the woods, the Hermit's hermitage was built into the side of a low mountain. The Hermit had a nameDr. Samuel Starling. He had been a popular professor of physics at Yale when he got a call in his office. He had only spoken a few phrases in the short call:

Yes, Dean Masters. Of course, Dean Masters. I am sitting down, sir. Then he said nothing more. He held the phone. If anyone had been looking it would have seemed that all life had drained from him except for his haunted, haunting eyes. His wife and two daughters were dead. Out of control eighteen-wheeler. Nothing could ever be good for him again. Dr. Starling had created several inventions that had made him a multimillionaire. He had lived frugally, saving his fortune for his daughters' future. With his daughters and wife gone, Dr. Starling took a third of his wealth and built a tomb for himselfa house/laboratory/tomb built into the side of a hill. There he spent day after day satisfying his curiosity, researching what interested him and making copious notes. He got Time magazine. When he read of the personal computer, he sent off for books on the subject and finally for an Apple desktop model. Then came the Internet. Suddenly he could study online and buy whatever he wanted and have it delivered. He would read chat rooms but never joined in. He tried looking at porn. But the ladies reminded him of his lost wife, Ellen, so he stopped doing that. And he worried about the world.... His Blogger blogwhich had only one readergave him an outlet to discuss his fears: I have nothing to live for. This world has nothing for me. But humanity is in more trouble now that it's ever been. I don't believe in suicide. I'll go on till Nature kills me. I'm relatively healthy so that means I could live on a decade or more. My wife, Ellen, would have wanted me to help. My beautiful daughters would have wanted their Daddy to help. There may not be much I can do. There is so much that must be done. I can't hope to help enough in time. But I

won't let that keep me from helping however much I can. I will help. Through his lawyer, Dr. Starling set up lectures at stadiums across the country. The lecture was titled The Chess of Success. It was a motivational speech that Dr. Starling had written. A tall charismatic professional actor was hired to read Dr. Starling's words about persuing success as you would play a game of chess. But, beginning every presentation, Dr. Starling gave this brief speech: You have come here to hear The Chess of Success. I hope it helps you. But, unless you choose to walk out now, you first have to listen to what I want to say to you. It's the reason that The Chess of Success is being presented to you free of charge. I'll be brief..... We face more dangers today than we ever have. Global warming. Pollution. Disease. War. But there is one danger we face that makes all the others seem like mere annoyances by comparisonoverpopulation. All of these dangers pose real threats to us all. But only overpopulation promises to drive us horrifically mad before it does us in. Aren't koala bears cute? Such sweet harmless creatures! But if you were to take two koala bearsone male, one femaleand put them in a cage the size of your living room and let them copulate and populate, before long, those sweet little koala bears would turn into cannibalistic Tasmanian devils just from the need for space. If you think that human beings are too civilized to resort to such wickedness to acquire the space they need, I suggest that you read a history book. If we do not solve our overpopulation problem, we'll survive a little longer. But we'll all be so insane that life won't be worth living. What can we do?

I'm against any attempt to regulate reproduction. Not only would that violate the human rights of women. But, in the hands of government, I fear it would swiftly morph into eugenics. Fortunately, I have a possible solution. It is a simple device that can make use of a property of parabolas to greatly intensify the power already available to us. There are educated, mechanically inclined people here tonight. I have put the idea in the public domain. I want you to take the idea and build it and perfect it, not for personal gain but for our common good. There's a time for competition and a time for cooperation. No is the time for cooperation. The energy condenser is based on the unique property of parabolas that focuses any vibration it receives within itself at a point called the apex just above its lowest point. As you know this is used to condense the signal received from satellites into satellite dishes. My modest innovation is this: By putting a mirror facing down at the apex and a small hole in the bottom of the parabola, it would be possible to let the condensed energy pass into another similarly equipped parabola which would, of course, further condense the energy. Through how many such energy condensing parabolas could electromagnetic energy of light be passed? How much more powerful could the original energy be made? That's for better mathematicians and engineers to decide. But we must keep open minds. If it proves viable, as I think it will, there's no reason why we couldn't use the same principle to enhance the design of new space vehicles. This, and a relatively simple terraforming of Mars, would solve our overpopulation problem. A second Exodus, if you will. If you are interested, packets of information concerning the energy condenser will be given to those who ask for it before exiting the theatre.

Now please enjoy 'The Chess of Success' The actor came centerstage as Dr. Starling exited. After thanking Dr. Starling, the actor plunged forward into his own performance: Crafting your strategies according to the patterns of chess will virtually guarantee your success. For example, the first moves of a game of chess create defensive pawn structures and open ranks and files to your more powerful pieces. Thus you want your first moves to create rational defenses and to free your power. Dr. Starling, already in his hotel room, drank a cup of coffee and clicked through the cable channels. He stopped on Animal Planet and watched a documentary on the bonobo chimpanzee. When the documentary was over, he got ready for bed. Staring at the ceiling, hoping to keep his mind from worrying, he repeated, There is hope for us. There is hope for us. There is hope for us.....

Spectre at the Feast

It was the first clear day after a weeklong rain. The little boy's mother dressed him in a yellow rain coat and black rubber galoshes. When he was done, he ran through the house and out the back door. He let himself through the backyard fence and ran to the nearest puddle in the dirt alley, jumping into it with both galoshes. Spotting something new, he was drawn irresistably toward it. The property to which the boy was drawn had no fence between it and the alley. What it did have, about fifteen feet from the back of the house, was a chicken wire enclosed pen containing a black-and-white birddog. The little boy adored dogs. He ran to the pen calling, Good boy! Good boy!

The boy tried to push his hand through the holes in the chicken wire and then only succeeded in getting his fingertips licked. The boy began to climb the chicken wire. He scrambled up the wire and, near the top, lunged and grabbed the wire at the top with both hands at once. One hundred and twenty volts surged through his small frame, shaking him like a tornado shakes a leaf. Smoke arose from his burning hands. The smell of his hands sickened him. Somewhere, far away, he heard the dog barking. He didn't think about it. He couldn't think, only experience. He stepped upward with one galosh, then the other. He didn't think of how hard it was. He didn't think of the pain. He got both galoshes between his charred hands and kicked with more strength than he should have had. What was left of his hands broke free from the live wire. He fell on his back, knocking out his breath. With another mighty effort, he pushed himself to his feet. His hands began to hurt very badly. Standing as best he could, he looked down the alleyway. Mommy, he said. Then his memory stopped. Mikey, aged twenty-three, spend most of every day looking out his upstairs bedroom window. He liked to watch people and imagine what it would be like to be normal. He turned away from the window and went to look in the mirror. He also spend a lot of time looking into the reflection of his eyes. The door opened and his mother entered, a gray, washed-out woman whose eyes narrowed above her cigarette when she beheld her only child. You got comp'ny comin', she said. Company? Yeah. This damned Holy Roller bitch I work with at the fact'ry found out you ain't never been to church and her damn daughter is comin' over ta save yer soul. His mother snorted. At the door, before she went out, she cackled a quick laugh and said, Oh, yeah. This should be good. The knock at the door startled Mikey.

No one had ever knocked at his door before. Neither had he ever opened it for anyone. Neither had he seen anyone so beautiful up close. After staring at her two moments longer that most people would have considered appropriate, Mikey stepped back and waved her into the room. Though only the child of factory workers, Holly McBride carried herself like a princess. Her hands always hung at the most elegant angle from her wrists. She was the star of her imagined movie. Mikey pulled out the chair from the desk, turned it around and bade her sit. She did and flashed another smile at his face. Your mother calls you 'Mikey. Would you rather I call you Mike or Michael? No, please. Call me 'Mikey.' The others don't sound right. Then 'Mikey' it is! She opened the Bible in her lap and laid one hand on the pages. Well, now. Your Mom told my Mom that you've never been to church, Mikey, is that true? Mikey was somewhat lost in studying the blueness of her eyes but came back to what she had asked. No never, he replied. No? You've never been to church? No. I mean 'Yes.' You're right. She's right. I've never been inside a church. But I've read about all the religions. I've read all the holy books. Holly closed her Bible and held it out to him. Mikey, this is the only holy book in the world. All the rest are just the devil's lies. I liked the Pali Canon, the Bhagavad Gita and the Koran. Holly sighed and put the Bible back in her lap. Have you read the Bible, Mikey?

Yes, m'am. Call me 'Holly.' Yes, Holly. I've read the Bible. Holly stood. With one hand she reached out to him. With the other she waved the Bible like a shaman shaking a sacred ratttle. Then, in the Name of Jesus, Mikey, you know that the one and only plan of salvation is here in the only Word of God. The true Word of God. Mikey, have you accepted Christ as your personal savior? Mike was almost completely unused to the company of others. Being in the presence of someone so emotional and beautiful flustered him. Still he was honest. Uh, no, I don't think I have, Holly. Oh, you would know if you had. If you make Jesus your lord and savior, when you die you'll go up to heaven forever. But, if you don't, you'll burn in hell for eternity.' Mikey's right eyebrow arched. So you believe in a literal hell? I do. He turned and strode to his bookcase. Excuse me, Holly. I have a theory. In the New Testament, where we see the word hell, it's a translation of the word Gehenna which was the proper name of the garbage dump outside the walls of Jerusalem where the city's trash and unclean dead were burned. Oh, Mikey! That's the Devil talking to you! Jesus was known for speaking figuratively. Holly slapped her Bible to her side, stamped one heel and flounced to the door. She turned and said, If you don't want to burn in hell, you'll come to

my church tonight. The First Church of the Cross. On Main and Sixth. You come by tonight and get baptized and saved so you won't have to worry about dying in your sleep tonight and going to the real hell. He wanted to please her. I know where it is, Holly. I'll be there. He stood at the door and listened to her heels click down the stairs.

He came out most at night. After dark, people were less likely to stare or say hurtful things. Watching the stars through the tree branches, he walked to Holly's church. True to its name the church displayed a large white cross above its entrance. Cars hid the curb as welldressed people got out and greeted one another with practiced smiles. Holly stood by the front door, welcoming the saved. When Mikey walked up to her, she showed only delight. She guided him into the church. Down the red-carpeted aisle in the center of the church she led him. She introduced him to the ministerBrother Knot. To Mikey, Brother Knot seemed more like a salesman than a preacher. He had no experience with preachers so he had no idea if this was normal. But Brother Knot seemed slightly too glad to meet your and his delight never rose from his smile to his eyes. It mattered little to him that Mikey was speechless. Holly acquainted Brother Knot with the depth of Mikey's spiritual delinquency. The preacher clapped his hands together and cried, I love to witness the Good Lord's little miracles! Mikey was puzzled but said nothing. Knot went on: I was going to baptize David Throckmorton, the Tiger's star quarterback, this evening but he had a car wreck. Got the baptistry full of water. Got a new sound system. Got a church full of saved souls. Mikey, it looks like the Lord set everything up just so you could be baptized tonight and enter the Kingdom of God!

Mikey hesistated and Holly chimed in. Why, of course, Brother Knot! Mikey told me he can't wait to enter the Kingdom. And Jesus set everything up, like you say! Knot seated Mikey and Holly in the pew before the altar. The preacher grabbed the top of the podium with both hands, smiled at the congregation and said, Brothers and Sisters, tonight you will witness a miracle of God! The bored congregation sat up straighter. Yes, I say. A miracle of God. Most of you know Mikey Locke and of what happened to him when he was a boy. That most of them knew Mikey's story was shown by the wave of whispers that wafted through the church. Brother Knot went on (as preachers usually do). Because we did not care, Knot said, Mikey continued on all his life outside the grace of God. His mother turned against God and this is the first time in his life that Mikey has been inside a church of any kind. Where is our love, people? He let them stew on that for a moment and then added, Now, while Mikey and I get ready for his baptism, Brother Quinn will lead the choir in Shall We Gather at the River. Knot came down and motioned for Mikey to follow him. As all eyes watched, they passed by the organ and out the double doors. Mikey couldn't remember undressing in front of another person before. In the small room where those about to be baptized get ready, he and the preacher donned the baptismal gowns underneath which only shorts were worn. You can put your gloves on the table, Mikey. I don't take off my gloves. Oh, that's all right. You can put them back on later. That way they won't get wet. I don't take off my gloves.

Brother Knot let it go and opened the door to the baptistry. Stairs led down into the water. The preacher told Mikey to follow him. Mikey got shy when he walked into the water and saw the whole congregation staring at him. Brother Knot became more of a showman. Church of the Living God! Tonight we have an awesome privilige! We, by the glorious grace of God, will be allowed to witness the transformation of a doomed lost soul into an eterenal child of Heaven! Amens rose from the congregation symbolizing applause. Brother Knot stopped to catch his breath. There was a microphone hanging from its cord from the top of the baptistry. His last breath caught, Knot reached for the microphone to pull it closer. Even before he touched the microphone, the electricity pulled his hand to it. Mikey felt like he was back on the top wire of the dog pen. He was not in pain. He was not burning. But Brother Knot was. He didn't understand how but Mikey knew when Brother Knot's heart stopped. Still unaffected by the current, Mikey reached up and separated the dead preacher's hand from the microphone. Then he dragged his corpse up the stairs and out of the water. Ignoring the roar from the sanctuary, he tried to avoid looking at what was left of Brother Knot . The door to the baptistry opened and three men in suits stopped dead in their tracks. The sight of their beloved minister, cold and dead, stunned them. A tall man with blond hair said, Oh, Sweet Jesus, how could this have happened? There was a short in the microphone, Mikey said. At the large man's side, a short man with glasses stepped forward and said, Why didn't it kill you too? I don't know, said Mikey, glancing at the dead preacher.

Oh, I think you do, said the small man. I think you're okay because the Devil has more wickedness that he wants you to do for him! Mikey dashed around them and out the door. The roar of the congregation grew louder as he approached. He knew the church must have a back exit but he didn't think he had time to look for it. Not wanting to think of what he might face, he focused his imagination on how he would look up and see the moon when he finally got out of the church. He pushed through the double doors. The church was a riot of wailing, moaning, growling, shouting sheep who had just witnessed the death of their shepherd. With so many faces aimed at him, Mikey felt shy as well as scared. He had been so alone and isolated for so long that he had no reserve of memories to tell him how to deal with this. So, he set his jaw, lowered his chin and plunged into an unreasonable fascimile of hell. Demon! Devil! As he started up the aisle, someone slapped him on the side of the head with a Bible. He strode on. An old woman spat on him. He rushed on. A slender woman called him a devil. He hurried on. A blond boy stepped out in the aisle and kicked him in the shin. He limped on. As he passed under the balcony someone shouted, Go back to hell where you came from! At least the moon hadn't changed. He considered going home to his room. It was the only home he'd ever known. But he knew that they would never leave him alone after this. He thought of his mother and knew she would not be sad if she never saw him again. He made up his mind and turned off the road that led home.

After he had walked a while, the streetlights stopped and the moon seemed brighter. He had walked a mile down the country road when he heard a noise behind him. He turned and, by the moon's light, saw a black-and-tan German Shepherd following him. With less on his mind, Mikey would have stopped and petted it. But the memory of what had happened seemed to recede with every step he took. He walked on. A light rain began. Lightning flashed behind the clouds. Mikey walked off the road, across a damp pasture, to a little hill on which grew two treesone full of leaves and one with no leaves at all. When Mikey sat under the leaved tree, he looked up at the full moon. The dog came and lie beside him. He looked up at the moon again. He wished he were as far away as it was. God, Mikey said, I've got a few questions. I'm sorry if they offend You but I'm trying to decide whether I should believe in You or not. Every part of the world has different stories about You. Judaism and Christianity say that you started us in the Garden of Eden. Then when Adam and Eve disobeyed, You cursed every human baby born thereafter. And then, to save humanity from the curse You put on us, You came to earth as Jesus. When we believe in Jesus, it is said, we go to heaven when we die. But if we don't or can't believe, we'll burn in hell forever. Mikey petted the dog's head and, still looking up, said, I don't think I like You. Then a bolt of lightning struck the leafless tree. The dog yelped and ran away. Mikey sat as he had, feeling the electricity and watching the little tree burn. Then he looked up at the moon and said: You missed.

The Tramp's Idea

As everyone knows, when we die, if we have conformed to Love, we arise from the clay and are given the choice of going to the Penultimate Heaven beyond the Sphere of Fire which contains the illusion of differenceor we

can stay behind on our home planet and help. Unfortunately not all ghosts who stay behind actually help. But, on every plane of existence, some are truer than others. Overseeing this plane from the next, the spirit of Sir Charles Chaplin was one who helped. He didn't care what the other ghosts did or didn't do. When Charlie saw someone who needed help, he helped themwhether they asked for help or not. Charlie had suffered horribly in his youth and caring for those in pain was hardwired into his character. But with his great heart and great genius, his comical lunacy had also survived. David Epperly was staggering thought the snow looking for an alley with a refrigerator box in it. He had got some more clothes from the Salvation Army and had spare changed enough to get two bottles of Night Train wine (well, three but he had two left). He found an unoccupied refrigerator box downtown that would serve as his room for the night. He reassured himself about the possibility of his freezing to death overnight. He took a swig of wine in his box in the alley in a city that didn't care. If I die tonight it would be the best thing that ever happened to me. I got one and a half bottles of wine, six long cigarette butts and a pack of matches. I've had worse nights than this. With my luck I'll live through this one too. From the next plane of existence more time can be seen. Charlie knew the hobo would not survive the night (or the many cold nights to come) unless he had somewhere warm to sleep. What Charlie decided to do was something he almost never did: Charlie Chaplin completely possessed David Epperly! Charlie flicked the cigarette butt outside the box and looked at the wine bottle. Making an exaggerated awful smell look, he made as if to throw the bottle away. Then he deftly brought the bottletop to his lips and emptied the bottle in one long drink. On his way out of the alley, he grabbed a broom handle for his cane.

Charlie tottered down the street, thinking quickly. The snowflakes were large. A cop car drove slowly by. When Charlie saw it, he got a comically devilish look on his face and took off after the patrol car. He hopped on the trunk of the cop car, then up on its roof (which caved in a little bit). The patrol car screeched to a halt. A cop hung out the window trying to grab the Tramp. The cop driving accidentally hit the button to turn on the lights. The radio squawked unanswered. Charlie leapt in the air, landed on the hood facing the cops (who again sat in their seats). The Tramp did a quick Micheal Jackson step and ended with a rude crotchgrab aimed first at one cop then the other. The possessed hobo then did a backflip off the hood of the cop car and dashed away down the middle of the street. The light of the Olde Coffee Shoppe drew the Tramp. Charlie assumed an air of dignity and walked smoothly inside. Charlie sat at the counter and ordered coffee and the biggest meal they serveda roast beef sandwich with potato chips. When he finished his feast, Charlie dabbed the napkin at his lips and sat sipping his coffee while he planned his next misdemeanor. The Olde Coffee Shoppe, though it was near midnight, was over half full. Only a handful sat with him at the counter. The rest sat in the highbacked booths lining the wall opposite the counter. Charlie studied them over his coffee. Then, with all his might, he threw his cup and shattered the mirror behind the counter. He leapt up on the counter and did a crazy dance down it kicking drinks, plates and such into the laps of the patrons. At the end of the counter, Charlie leapt over a timid woman. He landed beside the back booth and began working his way to the front, upsetting cups, pulling noses, and mussing hair. Working quickly, he made his way to the front door. T Then, through the front glass, he saw the police officers he'd harassed earlier getting out of their squad car with guns drawn and eyes narrowed. Charlie spun around and raced toward the back of the Shoppe. The offended patrons yelled at him and at one another. He zoomed by them all and came to a sudden halt in front of the woman's restroom. He knocked politely and a

young woman within said, Just a second! Charlie stepped back and mimed checking an invisible pocketwatch every few seconds. In less than a minute he stepped back to the door again and knocked again. (The cops stepped inside the Coffee Shoppe.) The young woman hollered Just a second! Charlie mimed abject terror, then morphed into a gentleman merely somewhat annoyed. The woman finally came out of the bathroom. Charlie raised his hands, made the most frightening face he could and then did a lewd bump and grind. She shrieked and fled back to her booth. The cops spotted him and yelled Halt! Charlie dashed in the bathroom, grabbed a bar of soap, and ran back out. He raced through the back of the Shoppe, out the back door and into the alley. Turning the corner so quickly that he hopped on one foot before taking off again, Charlie raced around the block to the front of the Olde Coffee Shoppe. While the cops remained in the alley, jiggling doorhandles, and checking dumpsters, Charlie, with the soap, wrote the dirtiest words he could think of on the windows of the cops' car. When done, he stepped back to admire his handiwork, his thumb measuring it as an artist would check the angles of a masterpiece. He turned and saw the many faces pressed against the front glass of the coffee shop. He assumed an air of shyness and made a humble bye-bye wave. Then he put his hand over his mouth as if to blow a kiss. But when he removed his hand, his tongue was sticking out. He laughed and ran away. A few blocks over he came on a movie theatre. Th3 marquee read: FAST AND FURIOUS FIFTEEN Charlie looked over his shoulder, thought for a few seconds and walked past the ticket booth and into the concession area. A large young man came over to him and said, Ticket please.

The Tramp smiled and held up one finger for patience. As he checked his left pocket, he transferred his broomstick cane to his right hand. Then he brought the bottom of his cane down on the young man's big toe with enough force to make the big fellow squeal like a scared little girl. Charlie pushed the ticket taker over with one-finger poke. Then he ran through the double doors into the theatre. The theatre was full. Charlie took a seat in the very back row, threw his arms around himself and mimicked making out with himself. Then he slapped his face for getting fresh. On screen, Vin Diesel was driving in excess of the speed limit. The moviegoers, mostly Caucasian, were whispering at the screen. Charlie stood up, stepped up on his seat, then hopped to the top of the seat in front of him. No one noticed. Then, with the skill of an acrobat, Charlie leapt from chairback to chairback, scaring the customers and giving them wet willies. Popcorn and soft drinks flew. Mainly to impress their dates (or wives) a group of growling men started to chase Charlie. But he stayed just out of their reach. Laughing all the way, Charlie made it back to his seat in the back of the theatre and hopped off by the exit. The gang of men raced up the opposite aisle. When Charlie stepped through the exit, one of the men yelled Get the crazy bastard! The instant the last of the gang dashed out the exit on their side, Charlie stepped back into the theatre on his. He sped to the other side and pushed his way out that exit. He made his way through the crowd of them in the lobby by tapping their left shoulders and moving by them on their right when they turned. Approaching the ticketbox, Charlie saw his cops parked outside. The driver yelled into the radio. The other frowned over narrowed eyes and fumed

straight ahead. Charlie suddenly assumed the role of a frail old man. Leaning on his broomstick as if he needed it, he tottered out the front door. He seemed not to notice the cops. When he was a few feet passed them, Charlie jumped in the air. When his feet landed on the sidewalk, his pants kept falling, mooning the cops with a little wiggle for emphasis. Get him! the driving cop yelled to the riding one as they both piled out of the vehicle and made for Charlie. The Tramp danced around them, ducking their punching and grabbing hands. Kissing the index and middle fingers of his left hand, he whirled and placed the kissed fingers on his butt. Then, over his shoulder, he winked at themand zoomed off, running faster than anyone with splayed feet should have been able to. Manuevering the maze of city streets, Charlie made for the police station. His cop buddies were finally joined by other cops and the lights made the street look like a carnival. Charlie ran on. The police station was a large grim building that took up a whole block. The front door was plexiglass and had the appropriate words painted on it. Charlie stopped in front of the doors and raised both his hands in a shrug of surrender. The first cops he had taunted jumped out of their car and rushed toward the Tramp. The passenger side cop drew his baton and brought it down to crack the Tramp's noggin. An inch from the Tramp's head, the baton stopped, bounced back, and knocked the cop out cold. The driving cop pulled his gun. Charlie smiled and put his wrists together in front of him. Another cop pulled his hands behind him and cuffed him They led him inside. The Tramp stayed through the verbal harassment and the fingerprinting, as meek as a lamb. He stayed through the delousing shower and the issuance of his orange uniform. At last, Charlie was walked to the solitary cell (the most secure in the jail).

When the cell door banged shut and the guard walked away, the Tramp smiled. Then light sparked in both his eyes and Charlie Chaplin's spirit left the hobo's clay. David looked around the cell with a puzzled look. Then he grinned and shrugged. Well, I don't know where I am. I don't even know why I'm here. But, hey, it's warm! I hope I can stay here a while.

VENUS' PRIEST
He went on without knowing why. Headed toward the only place on earth that gave him peace, he carried the only three things that pacified his wounded hearthis guitar, his sketchbook, and his stash. Of course, marijuana didn't make things better. But it helped him think of other things besides his losses. It helped him get over himself some. His long acquaintance with the hypnotic weed had taught him the danger of thinking negative thoughts when stoned. In the Sixties and Seventies, the scientists had classified pot as a hallucinogenic drug. Everyone who had smoked pot and done acid knew that was wrong. But it took the scientists until the late Eighties to reclassify marijuana as a hypnotic drug. Some time around the beginning of the Twentieth Century, someone had dug a circular hole in the ground, about sixty feet in diameter. Over the many years since all evidence of human creation had disappeared except for its perfectly round shape. The rain had filled in the hole and made it his favorite place in the world to be. It was deep in the woods. A small house that had stood nearby had fallen in on itself and been consumed by time. Now it was hidden by the thick woods. As far as he knew, the Circular Pond was never vistited by anyone other than himself. Jack settled in his usual settling place, a large boulder by an oak, only a few feet from the water. He leaned his guitar against the oak. He lay his

sketchbook on the boulder. From his jacketpocket, he took his stash pouch and his pipe. With its hypnotic properties in mind, Jack had developed a personal ritual he performed every time he smoked pot alone (which was most of the time). Packing his pipe, he began the ritual: All that we are arises with our thought. With our thought, we make our world. He lit the pipe, inhaled the smoke, held it in his lungs for a while, then exhaled and said: There is nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so. Putting the stash and pipe back in his jacketpocket, he grabbed his guitar and began playing the current song he was working on. He had great confidence in his guitar-playing. But ever since a pretty young woman in a bad mood had heard him sing and said, Save it for the shower!' he had only sung when alone and only then quietly: Stranger things have happened In this strange old world of ours Nothing is impossible we say Miracles are happening In galaxies and flowers Love's magic lives around us every day. Love's magic we know Life shows us so Love's magic is all we do Love's magic we know And even though Life's tragic Love sees us through Love's magic

Jack stared at the center of the pond, his mind on the fingers of his left hand while he played the complex lead guitar part he had made up for the song. While he was doing so, the air shimmered above the pond. The most beautiful woman Jack had ever seen materialized above the water directly above the center of the pond. He let go of his beloved guitar and let it bounce to the ground. He bathed in her beauty for a long time. Then he pulled his pot pipe from his pocket, looked at it and said aloud, Maybe it is a hallucinogen. Jack had done enough acid to know that when you questioned the reality of a hallucination it usually morphed into something else. Not always but more often than not. Maybe this was one of those flashbacks he had never believed in. Or perhaps he had gone completely crazy. Or maybe he was still asleep.... As his mind struggled to make sense of what he seemed to be experiencing, the glorious woman floated from the center of the pond toward him. He forgot all about the possible rational explanations. Her magical beauty made him as mindless as a baby at a breast. His eyes had never brought him a sight anywhere near as beautiful as the sight that he knew he now could not possibly be seeing. She was there in front of him. He blinked his eyes and rubbed them with the back of his hand but she was still there at the edge of the water, standing several feet in the air, gazing at him with a mysterious lovingkindness that paralyzed his mind. John Wallace Argo. Her voice was like a heavenly symphony. So exquisite was the music of her tones that it was minutes before Jack realized that she had said his name.

He searched for a while, found his voice and said, Yes? She smiled and it made him feel better than any drug had ever done before. He stood slowly, never taking his gaze from the vision before him. He was sure she wasn't real. But he didn't care in the least. She was the most beautiful experience of his life. All he wanted was to look at her forever. I am Venus, the Goddess of Love. Long ago My last priest in this world was your ancestor, Barius. I have chosen you to reintroduce My worship to the world. Fear not, Jack. I will give you everything you need to do everything I want you to do for Me. Not saying a word aloud, Jack thought, If I had known it was this amazing I would've gone crazy years ago. Venus chuckled, a sound like windchimes, and said, Jack, you're not insane. This is real. I have not shown Myself to any mortal since Barius was killed by those who called themselves Christians. Jack was not a Christian. His grandmother and mother had been and had made him go to church every Sunday when he was young. But later he realized that he wasn't cut out to be a Christian. When he didn't understand something he kept asking questions until he did understand. That meant that he wasn't welcomed in the pews of the blindly believing. It usually didn't bother him that so many Christians claimed to be servants of Jesus but never felt obligated to do the love he said to do. But it made him irrationally angry that they had killed and ancestor of his that he didn't know about until that day. Forget them, Jack. They, of course, were not true Christians. True Christianity, like all true religion, is only the doing of true love. Those who killed Barius were bestial hypocrites and they died when they died. Your hatred has no target. Let nothing darken the light of Love in you. Jack suddenly felt as if he had never hated in his life. Venus radiated a Love greater than any he had known or heard described, and he began to believe he

really was experiencing the exquisite presence of the Goddess. Silence passed many minutes between them. He started to ask a question and she answered it before he spoke. You will lead the children of the Earth back to the worship of Love through Me. Do not fear, dearheart. I will guide you every step of the way. What you need, I will give you. When you need guidance, I will guide you. When you need My magic, it will manifest. Um, Venus. Uh...I guess you already know. But I'm thirty and all I've ever done is draw, play guitar and get high. I mean, I'm more than willing to help but.... A wave of heaven passed over him as she said, Dearheart, I will give you the magic of believing in yourself. Jack had never been especially good at English. Likewise, he had, before, known just enough about the Web to find porn and song lyrics. Now he was putting the finishing touches on a stunning website called The Zenith of Venus. It contained writings so beautiful and profound that it amazed him to know that they had come through his own fingers. Jack sat back from the keyboard and looked out the window. He noted how different it was. For his whole life, he had lived almost completely without confidence. Now it was hard for him to believe that he had ever been unsure of himself. The website spread around the globe as if by magic. It seemed the world had been waiting for Venus and her unsullied message of Love. He became a celebrity and calls for endorsements and interviews became so frequent that he had to hire a secretary. The young woman, Ms. Ember, was ever-helpful. Jack couldn't help notice that her vibe was much like that of the Goddess.

It was his seventh personal appearance. He had spoken to a capacity crowd in the Tyler Auditorium for ninety minutes and left the stage to thunderous applause. His hotel was just over a block away. Deciding to walk, he spent half an hour playing guitar in his dresssing room (he was still stunned by the improvement in his playing since Venus had blessed him.) Guitar-case in hand, Jack stepped out of the auditorium's front door into the late summer night. There were more people still milling than he had expected. Not caring, not wanting to sign autographs, Jack turned and started for his hotel. There he is! Get him! Jack paused half a minute too long and two dozen wild-eyed men grabbed him and dragged him across the street. He yelled at the top of his lungs but could barely hear himself over the shouts of the men. Devil worshipper! Antichrist! Satan! Burn the witch! That last caused Jack to fall silent. One of the men came running with a rope and a gas can. The men slammed Jack's back against the pole of a streetlight and wound the rope around him. Somewhere inside himself, underneath his terror, in a small voice, Jack prayed, Venus, help me! When the rope was tugged tight and the ends knotted, he was drenched in gasoline. As if the gas were a signal, the men began to chant, Burn the witch! Burn the witch! One of them lit a rolled up newspaper with a Bic lighter then tossed the

flaming paper on Jack. Flames whooshed and then all Jack saw was fire. His terror made him wet himself. But he didn't even notice. He struggled against the ropes. Had he had the breath, he would have screamed. Then he noticed... ...there was no pain! Relaxing, Jack looked at the flames. He listened to the crackling of the fire and to the weird music of his mad attackers gibbering in tongues. There was no pain. He flexed his arms and the burnt ropes broke. Stepping away from the streetlight pole, he felt his charred clothes fall away. It was some of the sweetest music he'd ever heard when he heard the horrified screams of the hypochristians running away. As Jack stood in the street, still ablaze from crown to soles, a quick and heavy rain, falling only on him, extinguished the blaze. He walked back to the sidewalk. Picking up his guitar-case, he looked back to the pole. Then he looked skyward. Thanks, Venus, he said. Then he headed for his hotel, looking forward to a hot shower.

The Wind Wagon

My name's Zach Buchanan. You ain't never heard of me. I'd bet money on that if I had some. I gets disability 'cause I lost my right leg in the thrasher when my farm belonged to mah Daddy. I was thirteen and that was the year me and Edison Poole first laid eyes on one another. Strange how thangs come 'bout. Here I was too slow to drive in the same lane

as the other kids and lame ta boot. And Edison didn't fit in neither. It's weird. But normal kids'll hate ya just as much if yer real smart as they do when yer real dumb. You can be anythang but diff'rent. So him and me started hanging out together after school, not cause we had to but because nobody else would have us. But we got ta be good buddies. Ol' Edison he's so smart that he cain't help but talk over yer head even if you make straight A's. We come up with somethin' right offwell, I come up with it. Whenever he starts talking about math or science or the world or somethin' else over my head, I just hold up my hand say Whoa! And then he stops talkin' over my head. I have to do that a lot. We was close in high school. But then he graduated. I had to do the full eight years and even then I had to quit. Principal said I was too old to be around all them young ladies. But I think he was just tired of me. I was ready to give it up anyways. With Daddy dead, there was lots to do around the farm. Having only one leg meant I had to hop to it to get all the work done by sundown. But no chicken ever called me stupid. No pig neither. I worked the farm sunup to sundown, ever' day, ever' night, day after day, over and over and over and over. I never did learn to tell time or read a calendar so when Edison showed up one day and said we ain't seen one another in ten years, I knew it couldn't be true but I let him lie. Friends'll do that. One day I was up by the road lookin' at the mailbox and this thang come up the road and stopped right by me. It made a sound like wind whushin' thoo the trees. It looked like it mighta started off as a Ford van but you really couldn't tell it much. Me and my dog both jumped when a door on the side opened straight up and Edison walked down the steps that popped out when the door come up. Hullo, Edison, I said. Zack! Man, it's been too long. Ten years at U. O. with nothing but wannabe geniuses to talk to. Damn! Say something simple, Zack!

I couldn't think a nothin' so I said somethin' that always made him giggle when I said it before so I said it again: If it ain't one thang, it's another. If it ain't another, it's somethin' else. Edison laughed big, came over, and gave me a one-armed hug and said, That's beautiful, Zack! I graduated but if I had to go back to school, I'd have to pay you to go along with me. You thoo schoolin' now? Yeah, thank God! Now I can go back to thinking my own ideas instead of memorizing the thoughts of others! But I had to get my doctorate to get funding from the money men. It was worth it but I'm glad I'm done. Sometimes I'd talk to babies and dogs just so I wouldn't have to play ego games. That's what I like about hanging around you, Zack. No mindgames! I said, Well, I know if we was ta play a mind game you'd whoop me like a wolf whoops a rabbit. So I stays away from things like that. Mind thangs is yer department. Me and Edison walked back to the house, got coffee, and went out to the front porch. Zack, you haven't mentioned what I drove up in. Did anything about it look strange to you? I thought back. I kept thinkin' back. But Edison couldn't wait. It's my latest and greatest invention, Zack! This is huge, Bro! The first accessory invented for the automobile was the windshield. As the

car moves forward, the air that it goes through pushes against it. The faster the car goes, the more wind pushes on the car. Back in those days, nothing else could be done. But all that wind pushing on and passing around the car canquite simply nowadaysbe transformed into electrical energy. I call it The Wind Wagon! All it needs is one gallon of gas a month! I hope soon to preclude the need for even that much gasoline. There are batteries in the back where I can store excess energy. If these mini-windmill panels were put all over and eighteen-wheeler they could generate enough electricity so that drivers could sell it at power stations across the country. And what's even more exciting is how good it would be forwhat? I held out my palm and said, Whoa. Edison laughed and then said, I've missed you doing that. I said, I ain't done it since the last time you were here. Maybe it has been ten year ago. Oh, trust me, it has been, Zack! It feels like half a century! I've missed hanging out with my best friend ever. He reached out and hugged me and then stepped back smiling. I frowned and said, What'd I say 'bout huggin'? Edison chuckled, dropped his head, looked up at me like a kid caught swipin' cookies and said, Sorry, Zack. Ladies hug. Guys shoulderpunch. Yeah. I know. I forgot. I 'membered. And yer supposed ta be the smart one!

Edison bit his lip. Then he reached out and punched me on the shoulder. Now that's better, Edison. I was wonderin' if college taught ya to sew lace on yer boxers. Edison laughed so hard that he put one hand on the Wind Wagon to steady himself. I said, Okay, Edison. I know ya came ta see me 'cause we's pals. But if that was all they was to it, ya's a come in a reg'lar car. You never was one ta show off yer inventions. He grinned and said, You got coffee? Maxwell House Instant. Only coffee worth drinkin'. You know me. C'mon ta the house. Whatever ya got up yer sleeve, it's good ta see ya again, pal. Same here, Zack. Same here. Me and Digger'll go on up. You get back in yer Windy Wagon there and park it out back the barn. I looked at him hard to hide the joke I was fixin' ta make. Ya still take sugar in yer coffee, Edison? Yeah, just like always. Well, I ain't got no sugar so I'll jes stick mah fanger in it! Edison laughed big like he always did whenever I tole a joke without messin' it up. When Edison come in the house, I was sittin' at the kitchen table sippin' my coffee. His was set in front of his chair 'cross the table from me. He sat down and picked up his cup. He said, You didn't really stick your finger in it did you, Zack? I grinned at him and said, Not my fanger.

We laughed at that for a while and then got quiet. After a few sips, Edison said, Zack, I came by just to see you. I've missed you, pal. You always did keep my feet on the ground. But there was something else. I thunk as much. The Wind Wagon would help us immediately in the war with China. Fossil fuel is running out all over the world. Sure I could sell the idea to the Corporation and make megabucks. But some things are more important than money. What are we warrin' with China fer? Edison caught me up ta speed. Said it begun as an argument over the Tarriffs. I'd never heard of 'em. But evidently they was troublemakers. Edison said we'd been fightin' China fer years. Might be time fer me ta get a TV. I made us fresh cups. Edison went on. So I called up the Government and they want to send Homeland Security to see it in action. All I've got is a little place in the city. The garage is bigger than the house and it hardly has any yard at all. I was going to ask you if I could call Homeland Security and let them come here so I can really show them what the Wind Wagon can do. I took another sip of coffee. Then I said, Okay. But don't spook the cows. They come up the road like the President or somebody more important was behind 'em. Six black Lincoln Continentals rolled down the road and turned inta the farm. We was standin' on the front porch watchin'. Both Edison and Digger got excited. I told Digger to shut up. I told Edison to settle down.

Edison sucked up to 'em, told 'em how grateful he was that they come out. Mr. Bigshot cut him off and told him ta bring out the Wind Wagon. When Edison run ta fetch it from behind the barn, Bigshot turned to me and said, You! Go in the house! You don't have clearance to see this. I looked at him fer a while. I thought about how important this was ta Edison and let go of my pocketknife. I went in the house. Thoo the winda in the kitchen, I watched Edison talkin' ta Bigshot. Then Edison got in the Wind Wagon and drove it like a bat outta hell 'round the farm. Then he come back, got out, and talked to Bigshot fer a while. Then Edison drove his invention up in front of the house. I met him at the front porch. He got out and came 'round and said, Zack! I can't really tell but he seems to be interested. Come on, Zack. He wants to go somewhere else to conduct the rest of the tests. Says this isn't a secure location. I ain't goin' I said. I hate that somebitch. Oh, come on, Zack. I'll handle him. All them Lincolns went back out ta the road, and we followed in the Wind Wagon. They kept goin' and goin' and I asked Edison if they knew where the hell they was headed. I don't know, Zack. He knows where, I guess. I hope so. I don't want to piss him off, Bro. If he gives a good report not only will I be set for life but we'll win the War. War's gonna be over anyway if this somebitch don't stop pretty soon. But they kept on and on and on. They took the highway and turned off at the Coos Bay exit. I wondered what they had in mind. But they was government workers so there was no telling what they were thinking. They pulled off on a sideroad and drove on this big flat-topped hill that stuck out in the ocean. The

Lincolns parked in a circle and Edison pulled right in the middle of 'em.

The Homeland Security men got out of their vehicles and Edison and Zack got out of the Wind Wagon to meet them. Bigshot walked up to Edison and said, Your invention threatens the oil interests of the United States of America. Then he drew his pistol and shot them both dead. Bigshot walked over and sneered at the dead bodies of Zack Buchanan and Edison Poole. Turning his back on the dead friends, Bigshot ordered his men to turn on the Wind Wagon's engine. They put the transmission in drive then two of the Lincolns smashed into the back of the Wind Wagon, sending it off the cliff and into the sea. The Wind Wagon plunged into the deep water beneath the cliff, and a feature that Edison had not had time to demonstrate or even mention came into operation. All its surfaces which were open to the outside closed. The wheels came out and, turning sideways, became propellors. The sea water turned the windmill panels into watermill panels. Electrical power was generated, and the driverless Wind Wagon zoomed forward beneath the waves. Much later, sensing the upward slope of the sea bottom, the Wind Wagon converted its propellers back into wheels. It's programming prepared for surfacing. It rolled up on the beach, dripping water and dragging seaweed. Measuring the change in pressure on its exterior, the Wind Wagon rolled to a stop and shut itself off. Children had been playing on the beach. Parents had been watching them fondly. But with the Wind Wagon's emergence, they all dropped what they were doing, ran to the Wind Wagon and began talking excitedly to one anotherin Chinese.

Gullible's Travels
Everyone had called him Gullible for so long that most but his mother had forgot what his real first name was. Gullible would believe everything he was told. And some of the more callous kids in town weren't above playing tricks on him. One day Gullible was standing outside the Feed & Seed Store and a group of kids came up. One of the kids was riding a mule. This particular kid was wearing an old stew pot on his head with a tin cookie sheet strapped on his chest. He held up a sawed-off broomstick as a lance and said in serious tones: Gullible! What? The King of Oklahoma needs your help, Gullible! He does? Yes, he needs ya ta come to his castle in Tulsa so he can tell you what to do. He does? Yeah, and you better hurry. Without a doubt, Gullible went home to pack. He got his old scuffed up suitcase and filled it with three comic books, half a Bible (the New half), a pair of glasses with no lens and three pair of mismatched socks. Then he opened a drawer and got out his life savingstwo dollars. He put it in a dusty old wallet and put the wallet in his overalls hip pocket. Looking around his room, he decided he was ready to go see the king.

It was a goodly way into the afternoon before Gullible reached Interstate Forty. There was a Love's Truck Stop just before he reached the highway and after his long walk, Gullible thought a root beer would be nice. The door rang its bell when Gullible pushed it open. A thin woman behind the counter told him, Good day to ya! and pointed at the back of the store when he asked where their root beer was. Opening his threadbare wallet, he carefully gave the woman his two dollars for the root beer and asked her if he could open it right there. Why sure, honey! Thirsty, are ya? Gullible told her he was thirsty because he'd just walked all the way from Barkwater. By that time he had already finished half his root beer. Leaning forward on the counter, the clerk said, Why honey that's twenty-five miles! Ain't you got no car? Nope. No truck neither. Well, land's sakes honey that's a long way to walk. Where you headed? Tulsa. Tulsa. Whew! That's almost a hunnerd miles from here. Whatcha gonna do, hitchhike? What's that? After expressing her surprise that he had never heard of hitchhiking, she explained it to him carefullythree times. When Gullible thought he had the idea between his ears, he threw his empty bottle in the trash and left the store. He stood at the side of the highway with his thumb out for half an hour before it seemed right that should turn around and face the oncoming traffic so they could see who they were picking up. He caught two short rides and three long ones before he arrived in Tulsa. Then he wandered around Tulsa for two days following bad directions. On the third day, dirty from sleeping

behind dumpsters, Gullible turned a corner and there it wasa big white castle. Of course it was a big white motel dolled up to look like a castle. But Gullible was not the most discerning of persons. He wiped his brow and said Whew! Then he walked up to the motel and into a door with a sign that said office to those who could read. Gullible thought it probably said, King. Yes, sir, said the man behind the counter. Gullible set down his suit case, squared his shoulders and said, My name's Gullible and I'm here ta see the King of Oklahoma! The man behind the counter said, Excuse me? Gullible repeated himself and the clerk looked up the number for 911. Just then the motel's handyman walked in the office. The clerk called the handyman over and whispered in his ear, We got a read nutcase here. Says he's looking for the king of Oklahoma. Take him out to the parking lot till the police get here. When the handyman walked up to Gullible, Gullible said, Are you the King of Oklahoma? No, I'm not, said the handyman, but if you'll follow me I'll take you to where you can wait on him. The handyman led Gullible to the parking lot. Then he turned on him and said, Okay, nutjob. Here you are. The police will be here any minute to take you to the looney bin. There ain't no King of Oklahoma, you crazy fool! And as the handyman left Gullible to his fate, Gullible shrugged and said: You can bet yer bottom dollar And yer money's safe and sound Whichever way they say it is It's the other way around You can take it to Las Vegas And lay yer money down

Whichever way they say it is It's the other way around.

The Unbroken Doll

Mommy and Daddy were rich. They lived in a big house. They had lots of money. They bought their Little Girl all the newest dolls as soon as they came out. She had so many dolls that she didn't have time to play with them all. One morning, the Little Girl got up late. As she hurried to get ready, her Mommy yelled, Marlo, hurry up! The schoolbus is here! The Little Girl jumped up from her bed, grabbed her backpack and dashed from her room. She grabbed the door as she ran by it. It slammed hard behind her. On the top of one of her dollshelves, a black-and-white clown doll had been leaning over , watching his beloved Little Girl get ready for school. When the Little Girl slammed the door, the clown doll lost his balance fell off the high shelf and broke his head open. The Broken Doll lay where he fell. Later Mommy came in the Little Girl's room. She saw the Broken Doll. She left the room and came back with a broom and a dustpan. She swept the Broken Doll up in the dustpan and carried him out of the room. He came to his senses (or some of them) in a trash can in the alley. There was a crow sitting on the edge of the trashcan, tugging at the doll's white sleeve.

Are you trying to wake me up or eat my arm? said the Broken Doll. The Crow squawked and flew away to the roof of the garage. It watched the Broken Doll for a while. Then it flew down to the edge of the trashcan again. The Broken Doll grinned. The Crow said, Whatchoo doin' in the trash, dude? Oh, is this the trash? the Broken Doll said and gave half a giggle. I always wondered what the trash looked like The Mommy was always telling the Daddy, 'Take out the trash, Sam. Take out the trash, Sam. The Broken Doll looked at the Crow and then remembered what he was going to say: Do you know why I'm in the trash? The Crow straightened up and looked at the sky. Then it said, Ain't sayin' fer sure or nothin'. But I 'magine it has somethin' ta do with yer head. My head? Why there's nothing wrong with my head! But one of his hands came up to make sure. He found the break in his head and stuck one of his fingers inside. He ran his fingertips along the jagged edges. Turning his head to one side, he stayed that way until the thought he was waiting on popped in his head. Oh, yeah. I fell off the shelf and broke myself. The Crow flapped its wings but kept its feet on the trashcan. Yep. That's it. Bad news for you, buddy. But I see it every day. Nobody has time for broken dolls anymore. It's too easy to get new ones. The Broken Doll grinned and replied, Don't worry. The Little Girl will come for me when the yellow bus comes back. Don't count on it, kid.

When the sun went down, the Broken Doll began to worry, not for himself but for the Little Girl. He jumped out of the trashcan, landing on his head. Then he climbed a box onto a table onto another box and back over the fence. He went down the other side of the fence much more quickly. He stood up twice before he was steady on his feet. Then he looked across th backyard. By the moonlight, by the outdoor light, by the light from inside, he knew his family was home. He ran up to the back of the house and stood by the sliding glass doors. Something told him to wait and watch. The whole family was there. Daddy stood, coffee cup in hand, over a large box on the coffee table. With his other hand he lifted the top off the box. Then he pulled out a beautiful unicorn doll. The Broken Doll watched a little longer and then turned and walked away. She had always loved unicorns. The Broken Doll had the same trouble as before with the fenceonly in reverse. But he felt no pain. He felt nothing. He had had feelings before he saw her with the unicorn. But nownot so much. He stood in the moonlit alley staring at the trashcan. Then he turned and walked away from the moon. He could barely think. And didn't want to. He walked a long while, noticing nothing. The Broken Doll walked out of the small town into the country. He just kept going, step after step. The moon had risen to light the night. He should have seen the dog. Growwll! The Dog planted a paw in both ditches and dared the Broken Doll to take another step.

The Broken Doll stopped. The Dog snarled and growled again. The Broken Doll began to cry. As if a mask had fallen from its face, the Dog became its true selfan overgrown puppy with a heart as big as he was. He said, You okay there, doll? No, I'm not okay. Not okay at all. What happened to ya? I fell and broke my head and Mommy threw me in the trash and Daddy bought the girl a great big unicorn and she's always loved unicorns but...but she doesn't love me anymore. You want me to bite ya and take yer mind off it? I don't know. What do I know? I broke my head. The Dog walked up and hovered over the Broken Doll. The Doll closed his eyes and put his hands over his ears. But the Dog was looking at the Doll with big sad eyes. Doll. Here..uh. Hey, take yer hands off yer ears so you can hear me. When he wasn't eaten as he had expected to be, the Doll peaked between his fingers and saw the Dog lying on the ground nearby. The Doll stared. The Doll didn't always duck branches in time. But the Dog would always stop and lay down so the Doll could climb back up on its back. All in all they

made good time considering that they had no schedule. In no time at all they were someplace else. Around a bend came a giant dog with a little clown doll riding between its ears. This was not something that anyone was used to seeing. So it's not that unusual that the cat's back was up. The Cat was not a giant but he thought he was. Hey, spat the Cat. You tink jes' 'cause yer big that you can hog the whole road sose a cat can't get by? You tink I'm dat kinda cat, do ya? The Dog said, No. I'm sorry. Let me move. I taught so, said the Cat. The Broken Doll peeked over the top of the Dog's head and watched the Dog muscle its great body to the left. The Cat folded its front legs and watched. Okay, the Dog said at last. I think you can get by now. I'm really very sorry, Mr. Cat. Don't let it happen again, the Cat said as he walked by them, whipping its tail. Oh, I won't, sir, said the Dog. It won't happen again. You're a dumb old bully!! The Dog watched the Cat. The Cat watched the Dog. I've had a bad day and you shouldn't be so mean to my friend! Both the Cat and the Dog looked at the top of the Dog's head. The Broken

Doll stood there wagging a finger at the Cat. You leave us alone, you itty-bitty kitty! Under his breath. The Dog said, Please, Mr. Cat. Don't mind him, please. He broke his head. He doesn't know what he's saying. The Cat made a sound more grrr than purr. Then he motioned for the Dog to come closer. When the Dog's black nose was within reach, the Cat swiped it with his claws. The Dog yelped and jumped back. The Doll hung on for dear life. The Cat jumped up on the Dog's shoulder and hissed in his ear. I don't care what you do with your little friend as long as I never hear him again. Then he bit the Dog's ear. Being bit, the Dog wasn't thinking straight. He shook his head and the Broken Doll went flying into a tree. Bite him back! Knock him over! Sit on him at least, the Doll called from the tree. The Dog still wasn't thinking straight so he did what he was told; he ran over and sat on the Cat. The Doll climbed down out of the tree and walked over to where the Dog who said, How long should I sit on him? How would I know, said the Doll. My head's broken. Much later, the Dog stood up and looked at the flat cat. Uh, Doll. I think he's dead. The Doll held his nose and said, Nah, that's just the way cats smell in the country. No, Doll. I think he's dead.

Could be he's just playin' possum. Ain't a possum. He's a cat. Was. Now he's a bookmark. Okay, now is no time to read. I don't ask much. I just want to be long gone when the bully wakes up. Leaving the reformed bully behind, the Broken Doll and the Giant Dog went on down the country road. The Doll loved riding atop the Dog's head. The breeze made such lovely music as it whistled through his broken head. Nwack-wack! Wack-wack-QUACK! About the time both were deciding it had been nothing it came again. Quack-wack-wack-wack-wack-wackwack! The Dog sat down. Over to where he sat waddled a white duck in a top hat. He also had a cane that he rarely leaned on and little glasses sat on the bridge of his beak. He seemed fascinated by the Dog and the Doll. Excuse my staring, said the Duck in perfect English. It's just that it's been a long while since I've seen a little clown doll riding a giant dog. Where are you going? The Doll jumped down from the Dog's head to the ground and promptly fell over. He got up quickly as if nothing had happened and walked over to the Duck. This is my friend, the Dog, said the Broken Doll, and I'm his friend. Who's friend are you? Mine mainly, said the Duck. The Duck fit right in with the Dog and the Doll. The Duck bowed and said it would be a pleasant adventure to stroll on with them. The gravel road wound through the woods. The Doll, the Dog, and the Duck wound with it. The sun

came to rest on a mountain, then at the top of the trees, with with lovely multicolored light, it made the sunside of their faces shine. The Duck stopped and said, I suggest we stop and make camp. When I was on safari in Africa, hunting the Dodo bird, we always made camp for the night at this time of night. Whassa Dodo? asked the Dog. The Dodo is a big dumb bird that used to be but isn't anymore. There haven't been any Dodos anywhere in the world for a long long time. The Dog tilted his head at the Duck and said, Why you huntin' somethin' that you know ain't there? As if it explained everything, the Duck said, Adventure! Just as they had been when they went to sleep the night before, they were so far out in the country that you couldn't hear roosters crow when the Sun came up. So the Broken Doll did. Cockle-doodle-do-do-dooo! Hey Dog! Hey Duck! It's time to get up! The Dog growled. And the Duck said, Quack! Cockadoodle, Dog! Cockadoodle, Duck! Daylight's a burnin'! Time to get up and go to school, Sweetheart! The bus will be here any minute! Dog, if its not too much trouble, would you sit on the Doll? Don't tempt me, growled the Dog.

The Doll got sillier and sillier, Mable! Get up! The house is on far! I gotta put out the barn and the sheep. Go ye and sleep no more! Hey! Get up! Santa Claus is coming to town! I haf veys of makink you get up! Don't make me get tough wit youse guys! The Doll then dazzled them with fancy footwork as he pretended to be a boxer. He threw a faint punch, did some elegant footwork, and then fell over and knocked himself out on a rock. The Dog and the Duck went back to sleep. Much later the Duck awoke; he put on his top hat and straightened his jacket and vest. He shook his tailfeathers and stretched his neck. Then he looked around. The Dog was gently snoring in the middle of the road. The Doll hadn't moved since he fell on the tree. The Duck picked up a rightsized broken branch to use as a walking stick and strolled over to the snoring end of the Dog. Tapping the Dog on the nose with the walking branch, the Duck said, Wake up, Mr. Dog, if you will. I think, perhaps, you should check on the Doll. He hasn't moved since he hit his head. The Dog's big eyes came halfway open, looking at nothing. Then he looked at the Duck. Then he turned and looked at his little friend, the Broken Doll. Up like a flash, the Dog dashed to the Doll's side. He lay down and watched the Doll's face. Every so often he would put his paw on the Doll's hand. After a while the Dog got up and said, I'm going to lay down over there, Mr. Duck. Please go get the Doll and walk up my tail and my back and put the Doll on top of my head. We've got to go find somebody to fix him so he'll be okay. That would be advantageous, said the Duck. You can ride on my back too if you want, said the Dog. Don't mind if I do, Mr. Dog. Thanks.

The Dog didn't reply. He hurried on down the road, careful not to move his head. For some time that's what they did. The Duck burst into song at one point, singing half of the first part of Yankee Doodle. But when no one joined in, he fell quiet and twiddled his webbed thumbs. They followed the road over a hill because that was where it went. There was a valley on the other side and the Dog walked himself and his friends through it too. As they went up the next hill, they saw a large clearing. In the clearing they saw a beautiful golden unicorn. The Dog said, Wow! The Duck said, My stars! The Unicorn shined a light that eyes couldn't see. But the light it shined drove every shadow away. She shined the Light of Lovingkindness. The Dog forgot how to talk. The Duck repeated himself. My stars! The Unicorn walked slowly toward them. The closer she came the more they loved her. She bowed to them and said nothing. The Dog and the Duck felt better than they had ever felt before. Unnoticed by his friends, the Broken Doll opened his eyes and shook his head. Upon looking around, the Doll said, Well, I see you sleepyheads finally woke up! The Dog leapt for joy and both the Dog and the Duck fell to the ground beside their friend. Boy! Some dogs and some ducks like sleeping late a little too much! Then he felt her presence.

The Broken Doll looked up and saw the Unicorn. Pictures of the Little Girl getting her new unicorn doll were pushed from his head. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and looked again. He smiled and said, Can you fix my head? The Unicorn said nothing but they heard the words she sang in her heart: No little girl wants a broken doll, If she can have the new. No little girl wants a broken doll. What's the broken doll to do? The Broken Doll thought for a while and then said, I don't know do I. The Dog said, I thought about patchin' him up with bubblegum or somethin'. The Duck said, Peanut butter. The Unicorn thought, I can heal you, Doll. But you have to help me. Uh-oh, the little clown said. Don't worry, dear. All you have to do is believe that I already have. Already have what. Healed you. You have to see it as already so. The Broken Doll felt of his head and felt that the hole was still there. Nope. Still broken. Guess it didn't work. The Unicorn thought, It's okay, Little Clown. I'll tell you what to do. For the rest of the day I want you to say this over and over.

Say what? For the rest of the day believe you're okay. That's it? Yes, that's it. Now say it. The Doll stood and put his hands on his hips. He put his hand to his chin and said: For the rest of the day I believe you're okay. No. Say 'I'm okay.' You're okay. Now me. No dear. Say it just like this. For the rest of the day I believe I'm okay. For the rest of the day I believe I'm okay. That's right dear. The Doll turned around and walked up to the Dog and the Duck and said, For the rest of the day I believe I'm okay.' Knowing that the Unicorn had told the Doll to repeat those words, they didn't mind if he did repeat them for the rest of the day. But come nightfall they hoped he'd be quiet and let them get some sleep. Finally he did. The next morning birds sang three-part harmony and butterflies danced on the breeze. The Doll stretched and opened his eyes to see the Dog and the Duck staring at him. G'morning, said the Doll.

Your head... said the Dog. Is fixed! said the Duck. The Doll lifted his hand and felt where the break had been. It was as unbroken as it had ever been. He lowered his hand and grinned at the Dog and the Duck. He winked at them and said, I'm the Unbroken Doll.